


History Sucks

by Imanerdandliketoread



Series: Pinescone Week 2019 [4]
Category: Gravity Falls, Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon & Comics)
Genre: Aromantic Beatrice, Beatrice and Wirt are pals, Beatrice goes by bea in this just cos i thought that it sounded cute, Getting Together, M/M, non-binary Beatrice, study dates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-28 17:56:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21140816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imanerdandliketoread/pseuds/Imanerdandliketoread
Summary: Wirt is failing his gen ed history class so his professor recommends a tutor. Dipper Pines turns out to be a better tutor than Wirt could have ever hoped for.





	History Sucks

**Author's Note:**

> Uh Hi. I based the professor after my favorite teacher from my freshman year. She was cool, and also pretty. Comments, questions, critiques cherished. Uh also, please don't use any of the poems Wirt writes or says in this. I wrote them myself. Also, I apologize, as this was my first attempt at writing a love poem, so it's probably not the best.

**Schooltown Follies**

"Mr. Gilbert, if you could stay after class for a minute? I would like to talk to you." Professor Sinclair asked as the class cleared out of the large hall. 

Wirt was certain that this was about his grades. He put a decent amount of effort into studying, but if it wasn't related to interior design he couldn't retain the information well. The general studies history class he was required to take was draining all of his time and he had nothing to show for it. He slowly approached her desk, weaving between students as they scurried out the door. 

"Mr. Gilbert, I am sure that you are aware that your grade is… less than spectacular in my class. I want all of my students to do well, especially since this is a general course and there are so many people taking it. Since this class is, in my opinion, the least work-heavy course the school has to offer for general studies, I want you to at least pass my class with a low C so you don't get switched into a more time-consuming course. I suggest that you get a tutor, someone familiar with the course, to help you study."

She shuffled through some papers on her desk before seemingly finding what she was looking for. She pulled out a slip of paper, torn at the edges, with a name scribbled on it. "I recommend Dipper Pines. He's minoring in ancient history, so he can definitely help you with this class. He is a year younger than you, but don't let that get to your head. He's brilliant when it comes to history, but you've got him beat when it comes to the arts! Poor boy needs help in my history of literature class. Maybe you could even give him a hand when it comes to the writing assignments! A little academic teamwork!" She smiled, and her brown eyes shined with mirth. 

Wirt was less reluctant to take up her offer than if it had been any other teacher, Professor Sinclair had a kind air and always encouraged her students to focus on what made them happy more than what would get them the best grade, although she still helped her students do the best they could in her courses. He took the offered paper. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to try a tutor. Do you know how I could get in contact with him?" 

She held up her arm to check the time, realized that she was not wearing a watch, chuckled, then glanced at the clock on the wall above a whiteboard. "Well, my next class starts in about twenty minutes, and Dipper usually arrives a little early to help me set up. You can talk to him then if you want. If you ask me, he's a little too focused on playing the role of teacher's pet. He does whatever he can to get the best grade and if that means coming in a few minutes early to help me set up my calendar, well, I'm not complaining." She had a tendency to gossip, as though she forgets that she isn't with friends, but her students. Wirt supposes that's just because she's barely a decade older than her students.

Wirt nodded and wandered back to his seat, near the center of the farthest row from the front. To pass the time, he pulled out his worn notebook, flipped to one of the last pages, and began writing. 

_ Sitting in a haunted windowsill _

_ The world devoid of light _

_ To sleep in a world with no hope _

_ Is to lose sight of the future _

_ Find peace in the calm after death _

_ But do not expect comfort in the silence _

_ For all that lurks within the night _

_ Seek to find the lost souls of— _

He was shocked out of his mumbling and scribbling by a gentle tap on his shoulder. He snapped his notebook closed and whipped around, hunching over it possessively. His gaze immediately fell on a student with curly brown hair and brown eyes highlighted by bags, with a dusting of fuzz on his chin and a cute smile. Wirt's heart skipped a beat at the sight. 

"Hi!" cute guy stuck his hand out. "I'm Dipper Pines. I heard you're looking for a tutor. I believe that I can be of some assistance; I'm pretty decent at history." Wirt distantly heard Professor Sinclair snort. 

Wirt wiped the nonexistent hand sweat off on his slacks and shook Dipper's hand once, muttering "Hello, I'm Wirt Gilbert. I—yeah, tutoring would be great. I just can't remember anything if it doesn't relate to… my interests. No matter how much I study." How embarrassing would it have been if he had told Dipper he was double majoring in Interior Design and Creative Writing?

Dipper nodded. "I get that. I do really well in math but that's only because I am  _ constantly _ reviewing old information. Memory is a tricky thing, but maybe we can find the study setting and style that's right for you." Dipper shrugged. "So, how often do you wanna meet up? I've got a lot of free time and if there are any conflicts, my boss is pretty flexible with schedule adjustments."

Wirt fidgeted with the tip of his pen. "Well, I have this class on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays so maybe we could meet on Tuesday and Thursday and whenever you're free on the weekend if you are." He shuffled his feet. 

Dipper reached for his bag, a dark blue satchel slumped against the desk to Wirt's right, and pulled out an agenda. He flipped through the pages before pausing, scanning several weeks, humming and nodding to himself. "Yeah, Tuesdays and Thursdays work for me as long as it's after three. I can also manage to squeeze you in between a shift and my therapy meetings on Saturdays from noonish to two if that works for you." Dipper must've gotten tired of standing because he perched himself on top of the desk behind Wirt, tapping his foot softly against one of the front legs. 

Wirt's lips twitched into a lopsided smile. "Yeah, that works for me."

  
  
  


Dipper sat across from Wirt in a booth in some small on-campus café hidden behind the anthropology building. His purple flannel was draped across the table next to them and Wirt had to mentally berate himself for how often he caught his fingers mindlessly reaching for a button to fiddle with. The café smelled of boysenberries and yeast and the heat of the ovens warmed the tips of his fingers, cold from the autumn air. He flinched when his wandering hand brushed against a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of the table. 

"So I'm thinking we can test out how well each type of learning helps you memorize things. First, we'll do the physical stuff, like taking notes and drawing doodles to connect the facts to an action. Then we can test out aural learning, repeating information over and over again, telling stories, maybe writing songs or poems, that stuff. Next, we can try visual learning. We can watch Crash Course videos and look at historical documents and all that good stuff. Finally, I'm thinking we can see if connecting the facts to prior knowledge logically might help. He can make a huge timeline that you can add to and move dates and stuff around as the year progresses. When we're done with that, we can combine the stuff that worked the best into one giant study plan and hopefully we'll see some improvements. What do you think?"

Wirt nodded dumbly. It was obvious that Dipper had put so much thought into coming up with a study schedule in just under 24 hours and Wirt couldn't even remember to bring his notes. He pulled out the study guide for the chapter, some blank sheets of paper, and his pencil bag that had more highlighters than pencils out of his old, moth-eaten brown backpack. 

Dipper tossed a forest green folder onto the table. "So I found or wrote a few free response practice questions that you can answer. Once you do, I can grade them and we can go over them, solidifying what you know and correcting what you don't. Then, while you're busy I can work on this English essay." He muttered several threats directed at the essay. 

Wirt quickly came up with a plan. "Uh, you don't seem too happy to be working on that essay. I'm decent at writing so maybe I can help you with that, so I can kinda pay you back for tutoring me. When you grade my answers, I could go over your paper, edit it and stuff. If-if you want." 

Dipper looked up from the essay, hand dropping from his forehead. "Really? You'd do that? Thanks, man, you're a lifesaver. This History of Literature is kinda kicking my ass a little." He fidgeted with the bill of his hat, pulling it down securely over his forehead. 

Wirt bobbed his head up and down. He didn't know what to say so he just gathered the papers Dipper had printed out for him and started working. 

Time seemed to pass at a fraction of the normal speed. Wirt's world shrunk until all he knew about was the questions in front of him and the lumpy bench beneath him. He shook himself out of zoning out thrice before finishing the first problem and he knew he would lose more of his infinitesimally small focus as he progressed. Even though he was not being timed, he felt judged for not having finished yet. How much time had passed, how many questions remained? Finally, he decided to pause to stretch out the muscles in his cramping hand, casually glancing at his study companion. 

Dipper had one and a half paragraphs written down, his left hand gripping his pencil tightly while his right was buried in his curls, clenched to the point of shaking. He scowled at his paper as he wrote a sentence, erased half of it, rewrote something, and messed with the phrasing more. Wirt was shocked to see someone struggling with something just as much as—if not more so than—himself. It was inspirational, in a convoluted way. He sat back, grabbed his wallet and poked Dipper in the shoulder. "Hey, do you want anything to drink? I'll pay, so don't worry about that. I need water anyways."

Dipper chewed on his pencil eraser. Cute, but kinda unsanitary. "I guess if you're getting something, then water would be nice. Thanks, you're amazing."

Wirt blushed. "I-I don't know about amazing, but I can grab you some water." He hurried away so Dipper wouldn't notice the redness creeping up his ears. He stumbles up to the counter, tripping on someone's bag and stuttering over an apology. At the counter, the barista takes his order, and when he decides last minute to order a small hot chocolate to warm his fingers up more, the barista writes his name on the side of his cup before smiling and commenting "That's a cute name." He stammered a response, drawing a chuckle from the barista, and hurried to pay. When his name was called, he was shocked when the barista wrote something else on the side of his paper cup and winked. He waved awkwardly as he tripped over his own feet to sit back down. 

Dipper had been watching him. He had tried to turn around before Wirt saw him, but he was too slow. As he sat down, Dipper asked "you talk to them often? They seemed interested in you." 

Wirt chuckled, his voice strained. "Yeah, no this is my first time here. They were kinda nice though." He scratched the back of his neck. 

Dipper snorted, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms. "You should text them later. Even if you don't end up liking them  _ like that _ , at least you could make a friend. And maybe they'll give you discounts. That would make study days super fun! Gotta love cheap food!" 

Wirt smiles, huffing out a laugh. "Heh, yeah. They were kind of cute, I suppose. Maybe-maybe I will." His fingers brushed over the numbers once before his eyes flicked over to glance at the barista. They were leaning over the counter, head in their hands and fidgeting with the longest of their bright orange curls, seeming to observe Wirt. Their eyes widened when they noticed Wirt look over, and they waved in response to Wirt's awkward hand lift. 

Wirt's gaze lingered on the barista before he sighed and turned back to his slowly growing pile of papers. He downed half of his water before grabbing his pencil and starting on the next question. 

The two worked for three more hours before Wirt finally finished, tossing his pencil onto the table and burying his face in his hands. He faintly heard Dipper mumble something about being close to finishing, but paid no mind as he slumped over in his seat. He reached for his cup of hot chocolate before remembering that he had finished it over an hour ago. As the sun had set, the temperature had fallen with it, so Wirt decided to grab another hot beverage and some warm snacks. The barista from before gave him a smile as he approached, and he used this as an opportunity to distract himself from his work. The two chatted about school and desserts as the barista—whose name, he discovered, was Bea—as they prepared his drink and baked goods. He headed back to the table with a soft smile on his face. 

"I made a friend. We're going shopping tomorrow." Wirt flopped down into his seat, still grinning. 

Dipper hummed as he reorganized their papers. "I thought they were into you? You aren't breaking any hearts, are you?" 

Wirt huffed. "Hm, no. It turns out that Bea is aromantic and uses flirting as a method to make friends. It's an unusual way to go about it, but effective. Grabs your attention." He drummed his fingers against his herbal tea. "Oh! I got you something." He pulled a small brownie from a paper bag. 

Dipper practically leaped across the table for the brownie, shoving half of it into his mouth in one bite. “An ooh!” he mumbled with his mouth full. Wirt guessed that Dipper liked his mini-present. After he had finished the treat, he smacked the stack of papers organized in the center of the table. “So! Back to work. Are we switching to editing now?” 

Wirt nodded. He grabbed Dipper’s essay and started grading. By the time they had gone over their papers, the last beams of sunlight filtered through the blinds and lit the café in a pale orange hue. Wirt was exhausted and he noticed that Dipper seemed to be as well. Dipper yawned frequently and when he blinked, his eyes stayed closed a little longer each time. They gathered their things, scheduled their next meeting, and left with a final hot drink to last the walks home. 

That Wednesday, Wirt felt just a little bit more prepared for the mini quiz Professor Sinclair assigned and he managed to convince himself that he might be able to pass. 

Their study days continued in a similar fashion to the first, with some talking and laughing and snacking dispersed throughout several hours of work. Wirt found that talking to Dipper was easy, he listened and tried to understand how Wirt was feeling whether it was related to school or not. 

He also grew closer to Bea. They often interrogated him about Dipper, seeming to take pleasure in seeing him squirm. Their newest outing contained much of the same teasing. “So, when are you going to ask Dipper out? Even if you don’t plan on doing it, you should at least hang out with him. Y’know, in ways that aren’t school-related. Take your little history nerd to the museum, that’ll make him fall for you if he hasn’t yet.”

Wirt almost choked on his lemonade. “Bea! I can’t ask him out! He’ll hate me and he’ll stop tutoring me and I just started doing better in my classes! I need this too much.” He scowled at the table. 

“Oh boo. You’re no fun, live a little, Wirt! You don’t even have to specify that it’s a date, just drag him out somewhere and have fun. Promise me? Please, please, please just promise me that you’ll ask if he wants to go to the grand opening of that local history museum that’s been in all of those commercials on TV. Promise me.” They stared at him, gaze serious and stern. 

He shrugged noncommittally. “I suppose I could see if he would be interested in going with me. I’ll ask him on Thursday, alright?” Bea grinned devilishly in response. 

Dipper said yes. Not only did he say yes, but he got so excited that he nearly dropped his laptop as they walked down the sidewalk. He laughed, shouting out “Dude, seriously? I’d love to go!” Well, that was easier than Wirt expected. 

They walked there, side by side, to the museum, only a few minutes from campus. A bright banner declaring "Grand Opening!" announced their arrival. Tall, shiny glass doors opened into a large, open room filled with snipers of local history. The building was laid out so that it progressed from the beginning of settlements in the area to modern history as guests walked through the building. 

Wirt watched as Dipper darted from one exhibit to the next, eyes wide as his grin. Wirt mourned his sanity because this pining would drive him crazy. 

Dipper must’ve noticed that Wirt was distracted because he turned around and asked “Are you alright? I-I realize this must be pretty boring to you. We can go somewhere you’d want to check out too after this if you want to.” His brows were drawn low. 

Wirt jumped to ease his worries. “No! This is-this is nice. It’s cool here, and you’re really enjoying yourself, which makes this even better. I guess stopping by the café for some hot chocolate would be nice if you insist on going somewhere for me.” He glanced away, hoping that Dipper would leave it at that. 

Dipper shrugged, saying “If you’re sure.” He noticed an exhibit on mid-eighteenth century shovels and ran off, leaving Wirt trailing behind him, chuckling. 

  
  


After getting drinks, Dipper insisted on walking Wirt home because the sun had set an hour before. Dipper bumped his shoulder into Wirt’s, softly saying “Thank you for taking me to the museum, I had a lot of fun. I hope I’m not assuming incorrectly if I call this a date. I-I would like for it to be one.” 

Wirt froze and looked up at Dipper. “Really? You want this to be a date? Because I too would also want it to maybe also be a date. That-that made no sense. I’m sorry.”

Dipper grinned. “It made enough sense. So, this was our first date. Did you like it enough to want more? Because if you do, then I think we could turn out study  _ days _ into study  _ dates _ .” He pushed the brim of his hat down in front of his eyes, hiding. 

“Oh, absolutely! Study dates.” Wirt sighed dreamily.

“ _ To call myself yours is to gaze upon Eden herself _

_ For you have stolen my heart and kept it as your own _

_ As I sink further into the depths of desire _

_ The memory of you keeps me sane.” _

Dipper throws his arms around Wirt, letting a sort scream escape from his lips as he did. “Wirt, dude! You’re a poet! A dorky, amazing poet! That was beautiful! Why haven’t you told me about this?” He rocked back and forth, Wirt still in his arms.

Wirt stuttered. “Eh, I don’t often get such good reactions. Did-did you really like it? I have more. I could show you later.”   
  
Dipper, having finally let go of Wirt’s shoulders, took his hat off and ran his fingers through his hair. “Seriously? Dude, I’d love that!” 

Wirt took notice of a mark on Dipper’s forehead. It was a cluster of birthmarks that seemed to take the shape of Ursa Minor. “I-you-Ursa Minor! The constellation! It’s beautiful. You are… a sweet little honey bear. Yeah, that’s right.”

Dipper blushed and grabbed at his shirt collar, burying his face in it and groaning. “Dude, no. Stop, that’s so dorky.”   
  
Wirt grinned viciously. “So it’s perfect for you! Heh, you’re a dorky little honey bear.”

“I-I’ll quit tutoring you if you don’t stop making me blush. I’ll throw hands, no joke.” Dipper flailed around, pretending to prepare to fight Wirt.    
  
“Pff, I don’t believe you. You need me to help you in History of Lit too much to do it.”

“You might be right,” Dipper mumbled and threw his arm over Wirt’s shoulders. “Well, lead the way dude. This would be a bad date if I didn’t walk you home. Let’s get going, my dorky Poet.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. If you want to, you can find me on Tumblr at endoftheworldpaul. Bye.


End file.
